Bittersweet herbs, p.20
Bittersweet Herbs, page 20
“Oh, you heard about that, did you? It was nothing, really. Arlo voiced his concern over the way Ellis is trying to insinuate his way back into Danny’s life. Ellis took exception and … well, it was over before it started. Helped, I’ve no doubt, by the fact that there was a police presence, so you can thank your husband for that. No, Ellis is full of this expansion to Temple Motors, and he can’t see anything else. He’s quite taken with the idea of Danny coming into the firm.”
“Hasn’t Arlo asked Danny to get involved with The Guard’s revival?” Pru asked.
Zoe lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Pru.
“Arlo has owned up to his mistakes. He isn’t asking for anything from Danny.”
Except a bit of cash to fund the band’s reunion.
“I hadn’t heard about Ellis’s expansion,” Pru said.
“Vintage luxury cars. Why own any old Bentley when you can own a 1952 R Type something or other.” She shrugged. “We had a lecture on it this morning fortunately cut short by the arrival of your husband.”
Sounds like a jolly gathering, Pru thought. But had the reading of the will got them any closer to finding out who murdered Claudia?
“I’m breaking no confidences,” Zoe said, “when I tell you that upon their marriage, Claudia gave Ellis five hundred thousand pounds to help start his motor company. It was money from an aunt of hers.” Zoe gave Pru a sly look. “A good start in business, wouldn’t you say?”
This was news to Pru. Did Christopher know, or was this Zoe’s way of telling him? “That was generous of her.”
“Yes, it was. Claudia had a generous spirit. She led a simple life, and you can see that reflected in Danny, can’t you? I’m sure if she hadn’t died, that this million pounds floating about would’ve landed somewhere eventually.”
Pru rang Christopher while sitting in the church car park.
“I’ve had no lunch,” she said. “But I do have information. Are you free?”
He waited for her on the pavement outside the café at the bottom of the hill from the police station, his breath coming out like smoke.
“Quick, now,” she said, giving him a kiss, “inside before we freeze.” The warm, delicious aromas wrapped round her, and for a moment Pru forgot about everything but food. She checked the daily menu board. “Cauliflower soup with chili oil—perfect. That’ll warm me up.”
They ordered and took a table before Christopher said, “What did Zoe Bagshaw want to tell you?”
Pru put a finger up. “Hold onto that thought. Before I went to see Zoe, I …” John Upstone first? No, stick to the enquiry for the moment. “I went to see Acantha. Remember she rang yesterday. She wanted to explain to me that the person who made dwale would’ve had to strain off the liquid and discard the plant material.”
“And?”
“I suppose she thought you might’ve searched people’s houses and looked in their rubbish bins.”
“Not without probable cause we couldn’t,” Christopher said. “She’s waited awhile to tell you that.”
“I know what you’re thinking—it points to Acantha.” Their food arrived, and Pru took a moment to lean over the bowl of soup, breathe deeply, and take a spoonful before continuing. “Her kitchen is an herbalist’s dream, I’m sure, and it would be quite easy to hide all sorts of things in there, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t—her grandchildren have free rein, and I don’t believe she’d ever put anything dangerous within their grasp.”
Pru went back to her soup, and Christopher ate his sandwich, but she knew he was watching her.
“What’s her alibi for that night?” Pru asked him.
“Didn’t she tell you?” he asked.
“That’s not my remit, is it? I’m on herbs, not timing.”
He conceded with a nod. “She says she spent the night at her daughter’s with the grandchildren, because both parents were working.”
“There you are, then—she wouldn’t leave four little ones alone to go off and drug Claudia and … she wouldn’t.”
“Right, so,” Christopher said. “Next, Zoe Bagshaw.”
“It seemed as if she had several points to make—probably hoping I would repeat everything to you,” Pru said. “And so I will.” She told him about overhearing Finley on the phone, and then how Zoe seemed to want to paint a picture that put Arlo in a good light and Ellis in a bad one. “Claudia got his business started after they married by giving him half a million pounds. Did you know that?”
“The financials of all concerned were so completely without note, I’ve asked Sophie to have another go at them,” Christopher said. “She’s finished with the GBH, and I’m glad she’s back.”
“When Ellis stopped at Greenoak this morning,” Pru said, “he made it sound as if Claudia and Danny had needed rescuing. But in a way, Claudia had rescued him. Too bad he’s got an alibi. What about Arlo?”
“Hartfield was with Zoe Bagshaw the night Claudia was murdered,” Christopher said. “So they are each other’s alibi.”
“Is that allowed?” Pru asked.
“It’s convenient, I’ll say that,” he replied. “We’ve got them on CCTV at the corner near her office and flat. She’s walking her dog, at just after one o’clock, and Arlo joins her along the way. That doesn’t entirely rule him out.”
Pru scraped down the sides of her soup bowl, licked the spoon, and sat back. “There’s just one more thing. Before I went to Zoe’s office and before I went to Acantha’s flat, I decided to drive by and see if Sabine was home. Just to know—I wasn’t going to ring the bell or anything. She wasn’t there, but I had paused long enough for John to notice me, and he invited me in.”
“Invited you?” Christopher asked.
“So to speak. He told me about the day Molly died.” Pru repeated John’s story.
“I’ve never heard those details,” Christopher said. “His team would’ve known what had happened, of course, but they would never have discussed their boss’s emotional state no matter how many drinks at the pub.”
“Sabine said when they first met, John had talked about Molly, but she doesn’t know that it was John forgetting Molly’s birthday at the beginning of December—just a few weeks ago—that caused him to clam up. It’s as if he’s held vigil for Molly all these years. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t retired yet. Still trying to make up for her death.”
She spoke cautiously, knowing Christopher still kept the memory of his father’s early death in his heart. Were all police officers trying to save someone from their past?
“He should’ve been honest with her from the start,” Christopher said.
“Maybe he’ll tell her now.” This was no happy ending, but Pru sensed something in Upstone had cracked and broken open, and it might lead to better times. “I have hope.”
Christopher took her hand across the table. “You can always see the best possible outcome.”
“That’s me,” she said, “Pollyanna to the core.” Pru had carried that label with her throughout her life, and, although for years it had annoyed her, she no longer minded.
“It’s gone four o’clock,” Evelyn said by way of a greeting when Pru walked into the mudroom.
“Sorry we didn’t wait tea for you,” Polly said, her mouth full of what Pru suspected was ginger cake, although she knew that only by the aroma, because the plate was empty apart from a smattering of crumbs.
Regardless of missing tea, Pru smiled at the scene: Evelyn setting out containers on the counter to await the pensioners’ dinners; Polly and Bernadette across the table from each other; and in the chair at the end, Danny.
“Here now,” Evelyn said, “I’ve put the kettle on. And look in that other tin there, and you’ll find shortbread.”
“Thank goodness,” Pru said, forgetting she’d just had a bowl of soup as she popped the lid off the tin. “Otherwise, I’m sure I would starve. Well, what have I missed?”
“Danny says that his girlfriend, Libby, has never been to England,” Polly offered.
“And that led us to talking about whisky,” Bernadette said. “Because Libby’s family owns a small distillery in the Highlands.”
“Too small to export,” Danny said, “but they do a good coach trade. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a bottle, but”—he shrugged—“I didn’t know.”
“Perhaps next visit,” Pru said, happy that their teatime conversation didn’t seem to have included any mention of murder or money. She joined them and Danny talked at ease about Inverness, Libby, the café and Otts, the owner. When asked, he reached over and pulled his sketchbook from atop the Welsh dresser, flipping through to show them drawings from Scotland and Winchester, too.
“Oh, look,” Bernadette said. “It’s the Hospital of St. Cross—that’s the Porter’s Lodge, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, “I went over to see the place, because Mum talked so much about it. She said they still give out bread and a drink to anyone who asks, and have done for …”
“For centuries,” the vicar said.
“Yeah. She really liked the garden idea. History for today, she said.”
“There now,” Evelyn said, drying her hands on a tea towel. “Your evening meal is beef and Guinness pie. It’s a large one—I daresay it would feed quite a few of you, especially with a bit of mash to go along.”
Pru turned to the two women. “Can you stay? Polly, ring Simon.”
“Wish we could,” Polly said, looking as if she meant it, “but we’re meeting one of my client’s for dinner. Chumley’s Chimneys.”
“I’ve a parish council meeting,” Bernadette said, checking the time. “In an hour. And they can drag on forever.”
There was a sharp knock at the front door and a sharp stab of apprehension in Pru’s stomach. Please don’t let it be Ellis again.
“I’ll go,” she said, and hurried out to the entry. When she pulled open the door, a blast of freezing air hit her, stunning her as much as did the sight of Arlo Hartfield, wearing an open sheepskin coat over his usual tight black uniform.
“Hello, Pru,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping. I’d’ve got here earlier, but I had a bit of trouble with the satnav and had to look in at the pub to ask where you were. They all know you round here—I like that about a village. Good-looking pub, too, nice woman behind the bar.”
“Hello, Mr. Hartfield,” Pru said.
“Oh no, please, none of this Mister business—it’s Arlo. Look, I’ve come about Danny. Is my boy here?”
Chapter 17
“Come in.” Pru opened the door wide and stood back. “Come through to the library, and I’ll go see if Danny is”—Danny is what? Up for entertaining a visitor who has come begging?—“able to join us.”
Lame, but Arlo nodded as if understanding what she had really meant. Pru took him to the library and switched on a few lamps.
“I’m sorry the fire isn’t lit yet,” she said.
“’Sarright,” Arlo said. “I don’t feel the cold.” As if to prove it, he took off his coat and Pru saw he’d made one concession to the weather—he wore a long-sleeved T-shirt. Still black, but this one with the field cow-wheat one side and on the other, the news that The Guard Is Back!
Pru took his coat away to the kitchen.
“It’s Arlo,” she said to Danny. “I’ve put him in the library.”
Polly and Bernadette sat up, but Evelyn paid no attention as Peachey had arrived and they were loading the pensioners’ meals for delivery.
“Do you want to see him?” Pru asked Danny. “We could ask him to stay to dinner, or I can send him on his way. Whichever you want—I don’t mind.”
“No, he can stay,” Danny said. “Otherwise he’ll just … you know.”
Keep pestering you. “Okay, good,” Pru said.
They went out to the library together, and found Arlo standing at the mantel and looking down at the fire as it flickered, cracked, and popped.
“I hope you don’t mind me getting it going,” Arlo said, nodding to the nascent blaze.
“Not at all, thanks,” Pru said. “So, Arlo, I hope you can stay to dinner.”
Hartfield looked from Pru to Danny, who shrugged and said, “Yeah, stay if you want.”
Arlo’s craggy face broke into a smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thanks, I will.”
Pru left them to it, but kept the library door ajar so it would be easy to come back and listen to make sure things were not getting out of hand—such as, if she heard Arlo asking for money. She went back to the kitchen, where she found Evelyn and Peachey gone, and Polly and Bernadette on their phones.
“But Simon,” Polly said, “it’s Arlo Hartfield. I’ll ring Chumley—he won’t mind being saved the price of a dinner, I can tell you.”
“Just as well, then, Nate,” Bernadette said into her phone, “especially as you’re packing for your winter holiday. We’ll be finished before you know it.”
“Right, love,” Polly said, “I’ll nip over and collect you.”
“That’s grand,” Bernadette said, “it’ll be the fastest parish council meeting ever, won’t it? Bye now.”
They ended their calls, both smiling.
“Looks like three more for dinner,” Polly said.
The two women left, promising to return within the hour. Pru thought she should start the mashed potatoes—how hard could that be? But the only time she’d tried it by herself, the result was a watery, pasty mixture, which flummoxed her, as she was sure she’d done a proper job of draining the pot. Perhaps she’d peel the potatoes and let Polly take over from there. But before she got stuck in, she’d check on Danny and Arlo.
She crept close to the library and stopped outside, unseen, to gauge the situation.
“You think I should’ve talked Mum into that?” Danny said with heat.
Pru’s hand moved slowly to the door.
“No, of course not,” Arlo said. “That’s what I’m saying, that I wouldn’t use you that way.”
Pru withdrew her hand, but stayed listening.
“I’m not leaving Inverness,” Danny said.
“Why should you?” Arlo said. “But this is all a shock—your mum dying that way, and suddenly you’re lumbered with a pile of money. I’m only saying if you need someone to help you sort out what to do—”
Danny cut his father off. “You’d be happy to advise me?”
Pru pushed the door open and smelled the tension like the air during an electrical storm. Arlo had remained at the mantel, and Danny stood halfway across the room, by the reading table, his hands at his sides, his fists clenched.
“I’m just in the kitchen if you need anything,” she said brightly. “Anyone want a drink?” She heard the crunch of gravel on the drive. “That sounds like Christopher. I tell you what, I’ll send him straight in to see what you’d like and I’ll get back to the kitchen.”
“Do you need help?” Danny asked. He looked hopeful.
“No,” Pru replied. “I’m only going to peel the potatoes.”
“I can do that,” Danny said, and shot past her.
Pru smiled at Arlo. “You won’t be alone long.”
She followed Danny to the kitchen. He had pushed up his sleeves, and was tying on Evelyn’s pinny.
“I’ll put the pie in the oven,” he said. “It’ll take at least an hour.”
“Yes, good,” Pru said as Christopher emerged from the mudroom and took in the scene.
“We’ve company for dinner, and Danny is helping,” she said. She took Christopher’s arm, drew him out to the entry and, in a whisper, apprised him of the situation, ending with, “And, so, Arlo is in the library now.”
“I’ll go in and keep him company,” Christopher said. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see me.”
Pru squeezed his arm and returned to the kitchen to join Danny peeling potatoes. “Bernadette, Polly, and Simon have managed to change their plans, and they’ll be here for dinner. Is it too much for you, all this?”
“No,” Danny said. Plonk went a potato into the pot. “It’s better. I know I should … I know he’s trying. Mum said he wanted to make up for how it was.”
“They were in touch?” Pru asked, dropping in a spud.
“Yeah. Mum said it was Ms. Bagshaw that did that—got them talking. I’m not sure Arlo is all that interested in field cow-wheat. Ms. Bagshaw said he got hold of the idea a few years ago once he was a functioning member of society again.” He laughed. “She said that, I didn’t.”
The water was coming to a boil just as Danny tossed in the last potato. He put the lid on and said, “I’ll keep an eye on it for you.”
Headlights flashed in the yard—the rest of the dinner party.
“No, you go on to the library. I’ll bring you back in for the mashing, how’s that?” A young arm would do better with the vat of potatoes they had on to cook.
She waited for Bernadette, Polly, and Simon, and took them into the library where Christopher and Arlo bookended the mantel, the former looking serene and the latter, nervous.
She introduced Arlo, after which drink orders were placed and distributed—gin and tonics, glasses of whisky, and, for Arlo, tonic only, with a slice of lime.
Pru loved a good gathering for dinner, but admitted to herself that this was the second in a row in which the undercurrents might prove more interesting than any idle chatter.
But the meal went off without any flare-ups. Danny had provided the muscle for the mash, and Pru remembered just in time there were leftover roasted vegetables and put them in the oven when the pie came out. The dinner-table conversation stayed off the topic of murder and money, but couldn’t avoid The Guard—especially as there were two star-struck fans at the table.
“Are you writing new songs for the reunion?” Polly asked.
“Oh,” Arlo said, “I’ve noodled with one or two tunes, but it’s the lyrics that come to me first. Sort of like a message sent from—” His gaze darted to Bernadette and then away. “Well, you know.”
